A new winter
by NightZero
Summary: Doran, a young dunmer, has come to visit his father on the isle of Solstheim. Yet, when his parents are found dead, it is up to him to stop an evil threat to all mortals. Crossover between George R.R. Martin's 'A song of ice and fire'books and Morrowind
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: really, do you have to ask?

J'hrall was running through the woods, bow in hand. He dared not glance back, and see their faces. Those horrible faces, the faces, of those sentenced to icy graves. They were gaining on him, and not just the fresh dead. Their masters were much faster, without their ice armor. Yet even the dead need protection. And what better way to shield themselves than with what has encrusted the ones that they converted. Stalhirm. 'I have to get back to the fort' J'hrall thought. 'For we are all doomed should I not.'

The only thing left belonging to J'hrall was a hand. A single, black hand.

Meanwhile,

A ship was departing from Khuul. And on it, stood a dunmer. He was much like others of his profession, restless. He was always wishing to be hunting a deer, beautiful daedric longbow in hand. The longbow he had taken off of the corpse of his first kill.

"Ser, we are coming upon fort frostmoth" the ships captain, a suprisingly articulate khajitt said.

"Spare me your courtesies, captain. I am meant to go to Solstheim, not be 'charmed' out of more coin. Besides, I am no more a knight than you an imperial" the dunmer said impatiently. He went back to gazing out onto the sea. It was nothing like where he came from. He may have been born in the wetlands of the mainland of Morrowind, yet he had never been on water where you couldn't see the bottom. I truth, it scared him a little.

"Doran, come back below deck!" an old woman yelled. Well, old for him. As he was only fourteen years of age, and already hardened in the ways of war, battle, some magics, and stealth. The last was most important to him. It was with stealth that he won his prized longbow, slitting the throat of a fool with a daedric dagger he summoned. It was with stealth that he was able to sneak into a breton enchanter's house, and force her to enchant the bow with the soul of the dremora he killed.

"Doran, how many times do I have to tell you? Get back down here!" his mother yelled again.

"Fine!" he yelled back turning to descend into the cabin, when he took one last look, and saw a fort looming on the horizon. He smiled then, knowing his destiny was upon him.

_So, what'd you think? My first fic in a while, so bear with me as I get my muse back. R&R._


	2. The first sign

Disclaimer: really, do you have to ask?

The ship was already departing back for Khuul. Doran's mother was on it, because she never liked the cold. She was the exact opposite of Doran. Doran was his father's child.

Doran went up to the main office of fort Frostmouth, inquiring to where his father was. The old imperial in charge told him that his father was on a ranging, looking for a missing Khajitt. Meanwhile, he could wander around the fort and the immediate area. But no farther. So, Doran decided to get a little bit of sleep, and found his fathers quarters, and went to sleep.

'_BROOOO! BROOOO! BROOOO!'_ was all that Doran could hear when he woke up. Panic was all around him. He tried stopping all the rangers, but they couldn't seem to hear him. Finally, Doran found an old steward.

"Old man, what the hell is going on?" Doran practically screamed at him, to be heard above the panic.

"Others!" was all Doran could get out of him.

"Others, what are others?" he asked.

"The others are a race older than the daedra, and much more fearsome." a passing ranger told him in fear.

"Well, I guess that my bow will be put to good use on this trip" he smiled, not quite understanding it all.

"Out on the ramparts, with the other archers!" the head steward told him, shouting orders to everyone else.

Doran made it there, and nearly wet himself when he saw the enemy's numbers.

_So, what'd you think? My first fic in a while, so bear with me as I get my muse back. R&R._


End file.
